My Brother's Keeper
by BluejayPrime
Summary: "I want to be a warrior" he repeated, "Like you. I want to protect – the baby. To make Mother smile." There was a strange noise in Thorin's breathing, making it sound forced and choked. "I'll teach you" his uncle finally answered, his voice muffled as he pressed a kiss to Fili's hair, "I'll teach you, little one, I promise." [There will be Fili/Kili and maybe Bagginshield lateron.]
1. Prologue: A Child is Born

The lad had not spoken for a year by now.

He was only four years old, barely able to walk by himself; far too young to understand that his father would not come home, and Dwalin had no doubts he did not understand the change going through his mother either. It wasn't unusual, for an infant to give up on speaking after a loss such as this. Especially not in a way such as this; with his father being snatched by orcs during a hunting trip, and him and Thorin only able to bring back what they had left of him; with the lad stumbling into the room on stubby legs in the worst possible moment to catch a glimpse of his father's mutilated corpse; with his mother, strong as rock as she was, barely able to take care of herself, let alone of her bairn, and only to discover she was carrying a second a few weeks after she'd buried its father.

So the lad did not speak. At first, they'd feared the shock had left him numb not just for speech, but for the world as a whole, but then, life had went on like it had before - well, not at all, of course, but he'd continued to follow his uncle and mother around as he had before, he reacted when spoken to - nodding or shaking his head, gesturing with small, chubby fingers, smiling at sweets and jokes - he just did not speak. He didn't want to speak, they'd figured out soon.

He'd also never left the mountain before. The dangerous two first years of his life, that had ended with Thorin as his acting name giver bestowing him with his Westron name, were barely past, the short phase of life many infants did not live through - the lassies even less than the lads - and he was still susceptible to fevers and cold; as much as dwarves did not worry about human diseases, there were enough of their own that could easily prove deadly for a child. The last night, when the King's sister had come down in childbirth, though, Dwalin had been charged with guarding the young prince. Thorin had not left his sister's side - that was no big surprise, seeing as her husband could not be there, and everyone knew how the King's own mother had died in childbed. The night before, a snowstorm had covered the Blue Mountains in leagues of freshly fallen snow, now gleaming under the winter sun, pale and yet risen high in the sky. The little prince grimaced a bit at the sudden light, burrowing himself against Dwalin's chest to shield his eyes. Dwalin gave him a gentle pat on the back, drawing his own cloak a little more around the lad when they passed through the gates, the guards greeting their captain with murmured words or a brief nod, their own fur linned cloaks drawn up to their noses to shield them from the cold, beards or not.

It was November now, the dwarven year still fresh and new, as was the snow that greeted them. It sparked the lad's interest, that was for sure. He glanced out from the fur of Dwalin's coat, tiny lips forming a perfect O at the sight, and it didn't take overly long for him to start squirming and struggling to free himself from Dwalin's grip. Obediently, he allowed the boy to walk on his own, despite the fact that the snow that barely reached up to his waistline almost covered the child head to toe. Fili seemed rather content with that, though; it didn't take long until the short braids he wore were damp and white with snow, the lad dancing eagerly on tiptoe to catch single flakes with his tongue, following through the trace Dwalin left for him, and still reaching into the white mass that towered around him every now and then, eyes wide with amazement and bewilderment at the same time.

They did not venture overly far from the gates. The lad was already tired by the time they reached a small clearing in the pine forest, and Dwalin picked him up once more, helping him to sit on a fallen treetrunk to clean his face a bit, cheeks reddened from the cold already, but the lad grinning from ear to ear. It was hard to make him sit still even for so long, eager to explore as he was; Dwalin kept an eye on him as he went off to explore the clearing at surprising speed, burying his way through the snow. Of course, Dwalin was aware why Thorin had ordered him to take Fili outside. If anything was to happen to his mother, or the bairn she carried… or both…

No, Dwalin reminded himself as he watched the dwarfling frolic through the snow; all would be well. Oin was with them, and several of the other healers, too. Oin had already delivered Dís' first son into the world, and he would not fail in his attempt to deliver her second one either. It was a good thing for a man to have a brother, too. The lassies needed protection, but a brother had your back in battle, always. (Though, now that he thought about it, he was rather sure that while Dís had never seen battle, she had Thorin's back as good as any brother could have done. If not in war, then in politics, he knew as much.) If it hadn't been for Balin… They had been playing on the slopes of another mountain, of course, when they'd been dwarflings. They, and the two princes that had always been with them, and of which now only one was left, and that one was his king. It was a good thing for a man to have a brother, but the worst to lose one, he knew as much, too.

Dusk had settled upon them by the time they made their way back home. The little prince lay limp and exhausted in Dwalin's arms this time, almost asleep, tiny face buried in his cloak once more, light eyes slipped shut, golden hair disheveled and wet. He would need a bath, most likely, and something to eat, too; with a little luck, they would find the latter in the kitchens, at least. The cook's new apprentice, a stout fellow named Bombur, always had something to spare for the hungry, and even more so for the baby prince that was everybody's pride and joy in Thorin's Halls. When they returned, though, one of Dís' court ladies already awaited them. Despite his trust in Oin, Dwalin felt a weight the size of the whole mountain lifted from his shoulders at the smile on her face. "Just in time" she said, "The bairn's well, and so is the mother. Would you like to see her?"

Dís had given birth not in the healing quarters, but in her own bed, as was befit for a princess. She was pale as the linen of her sheets, with beads of sweat still on her forehead, dark curls framing her face damp as well, but not looking overly unhealthy; in fact, when Dwalin stepped through the door, he saw her smile for the first time in the past year. He felt the little prince stiffen in his arms at the sight of his mother, and the bundle in her arms, even smaller than he was. There was not much to be said, him and Thorin – who looked almost as pale as his sister – exchanging only a brief look as he sat the little prince down on the bed. Dís gave a light snort when she ran a hand over his hair. "Did you take him outside?" she asked, her voice only a slight bit weaker than usual, "Durin's beard, _kadzunithê_ *, you'll grow icicles in your beard if we don't get you to bathe soon…" The little prince grinned a little shyly, but only gave a small shrug before he climbed a little closer to peek down at the newborn in his mother's arms. There wasn't much to be seen, of course; only a small tuft of hair – dark, as his mother's and uncle's – and the baby's soft, pink eyelids, closed as the little prince slept after the exhaustions of being born. Fili smiled.

They'd laid the baby to sleep in the nursery. Fili knew the way, of course; he slept there himself, only in a different room. Still, after having been bathed and fed, he found no sleep, despite the soft humming voice of his uncle as he'd tucked him in, despite the many new adventures the day had brought. Maybe because of them. But there was something else, too. He'd seen the smile on his mother's face when they'd entered her bedroom, something that had not been there in… a long time. He did not remember when he'd last seen her smile that way, but it dimly told him the new baby she had (though it didn't look much, really, all pink and soft and no beard yet) was a good thing. A _very_ good thing. It took great effort to wait until the noise in the hallways had ebbed down and he found a way to sneak out to find his new brother.

He was sleeping, again. Fili did not know much of babies, but apparently they tended to sleep a lot; if they did not, they were a lot more noisy, but even with his mother having spent the day in bed someone had always been there to take care of him – of both of them, really, because Master Dwalin had been there, too. The baby was sleeping in what Fili recognized as his own old crib (old in the matter of that he had a bed of his own now, of course), and that made him difficult to see. Of course, it did not have a name yet. Dwarf babies did not get official names until they reached their second birthday (then referred to as name day, which Fili knew because his fifth had been only a few months ago), because… Oh, that was a bad thing. The dwarfling nibbled his lip. What if anything happened? If his newfound brother vanished, like his father had done, and with him all reasons for his mother to ever smile again? Crib or not, he had to make sure the little thing was fine. He was good at climbing (though nobody must know; his uncle had caught him once, and told him a lot of things about climbing things and possibly falling, and that hadn't sounded overly good either), and so it was no great difficulty to sneak into his baby brother's bed. He was indeed asleep, Fili noticed, lying on his back, wrapped in linens and sleeping on a fur to keep him warm. However, when Fili stretched out next to him, the baby moved, rosy eyelids slipping open, and Fili hastily scooted back, in case it did not like his company, heart beating wildly in his chest. It did not cry, though. He frowned a little, carefully coming back a little to keep an eye on him. The baby's eyes were different, dark in the dimly lit room, not as light as his mother's and uncle's were. No, they were dark, like his father's had been… and now he knew why his mother had smiled. If his baby brother had his father's eyes, maybe something of him had returned to them? The dwarfling frowned again, overthinking this. That was interesting. He did not remember much of his father, even though he had only been gone for such a short time; there were some things, though. The torchlight that set golden sparks over his hair, or the way he'd braided his moustache, and his mother teasing him about it. Well, and the eyes, golden brown like molten honey, warm and friendly, sometimes with a mischievous glance about it when he'd brought gifts for Fili, or sweets his mother technically had not allowed…

The dwarfling sniffled a bit, rubbing his eyes. The baby had not started to cry yet, so he would not do that either. Instead, he curled up at his baby brother's side once more. He was _small_ , so small, almost half Fili's size, and he knew Master Dwalin and his uncle towered above him like giants. _Small_ , and fragile. The baby made a small, whining sound, and Fili, not knowing what else to do, reached out to take one of the small hands into his own. They were a little clammy and sticky, but looked just like his own, too, though they neatly fit into his palms. _Small_ , he noticed once more. Also not two years old yet. Something needed to be done about that.

He knew where his uncle's study was, too. There were lots of books and old maps, but they did not allow him to play with them; Thorin needed them, he knew as much, though he did not understand what for. They told of people and places long ago, after all, whose names only lived on in memory. Once he'd gotten up the next morning, though, he made his way over to Thorin's study. He'd managed to sneak out of his brother's nursery after falling asleep next to him, undiscovered; yet, it would only be a matter of time until someone came looking for him, would it? His uncle was there, of course, working. He always did; Fili seldom remembered seeing him anywhere else but in his study, or at the fireplace in the living quarters, where he held him on his knees and told him stories. Maybe he'd do the same for his brother now, too. The desk was too high for him to climb, and so he went over to his uncle's chair instead, reaching up to lightly tug his sleeve. Thorin glanced down, frowning only so much. "Now, where'd you come from? Shouldn't you be with your mother?"

Fili hesitated. They'd asked him many questions, of course, and they needed answering, but the words felt stuck in his throat, as if he'd swallowed too many of them and yet had too few at the same time. There were some that had gathered in his head during the past night, though. Answers could wait. "I want to be a warrior" he said.

Thorin froze in his movements, a piece of parchment still in his hands, blue eyes fixed on the dwarfling. "What?" he asked, his voice sounding strangely hoarse. Maybe he was sick. Fili frowned a little. "I want to be a warrior" he repeated, his voice sounding a little clearer this time, "Like you. I want to protect – the baby. To make Amad** smile." Thorin stared at him as if Fili had turned into a troll and back right in front of him. The boy nibbled his lip again, unsure of what to do. Had he said something wrong? Had he not found the right words after all? "Please" he added pleadingly, and Thorin moved; Fili flinched only so much at the sudden shift, but Thorin scooped him up, cradling him close as he pressed a kiss to his hair. There was a strange noise in his breathing, making it sound forced and choked, and now Fili was very sure that his uncle indeed was sick (maybe he'd been out playing with the cold white stuff Dwalin had showed him for too long), but Thorin still held him tight and so he didn't squirm. "I'll teach you" Thorin finally answered, his voice muffled as he pressed a kiss to Fili's hair, "I'll teach you, little one, I promise."

* * *

Khuzdûl used:

*my golden boy (young man)

**Mommy


	2. Dreams

**"** **Children learn to smile from their parents."**

 _(Shinichi Suzuki)_

There was something amiss with Kili.

Of course it was; if anything was amiss with Balin's students, it was usually about Kili, or his brother, or both (though Thorin suspected that most of the time it was rather Fili taking the blame for something his baby brother had come up with; it was hard to tell, with the two of them being as close as they were). Today, Kili had not appeared in class again; it had caused Balin to seek out Thorin's study, seeing as it wasn't the first time to happen. "It's not that he tends to skip his lessons" the old dwarf said, a smile wrinkling the corners of his eyes as well as beneath his beard, "He wouldn't be the first dwarfling to prefer to spend his time hunting or working instead of sitting over dusty books and old maps. It's rather his progress as a whole that's worrying me." That was no news either. Kili wasn't as good as a swordsman as his brother was – only last week Fili'd started to include a second weapon in his training, which in itself was remarkable for a dwarfling of thirty years – but that could have been due to his age. He was restless, though; they all knew it was difficult for the lad to stay in the same place for longer than fifteen minutes (usually much less), or even to sit still for a moment, bursting with energy as he was. It wasn't as if Kili hadn't been interested in his studies either; the boy loved stories, maybe even more than his brother, and he loved to learn, to explore and to discover all he could by himself, but the theoretical aspects of many things tended to slip his attention. He had a quick mind, the little one, but unfortunately his temper was even quicker, most of the time.

"I'll speak to him." Thorin's voice was still calm; in fact, Balin reporting back to him about the boys' progress – and Kili's lack of attention – happened in about the same words almost every day.

Balin hesitated. "I'm not so sure speaking will help" he then replied a little slower, "He's behind – far behind, which is unusual even at his age – when it comes to reading and, even more, writing as a whole. He tends to write letters backwards or to mix them up altogether, he has trouble remembering directions or telling his right and left hand apart…" White eyebrows moved like furry caterpillars as Balin frowned only so much. "I believe he might be lefthanded."

Thorin's lips tightened only so much. "Do you, then?"

"He wouldn't be the first in his family, would he?" Balin replied, eyebrows rising just a bit, "The question is, how to deal with it. I can teach him to use his right, and Dwalin will do the same. But…"

"No." The answer came a little faster than Thorin himself would have thought; still, he shook his head, "I'll speak to him. Take care of Fili and the others, I'll send him later."

Balin gave a nod. "Of course." He gave a brief smile. "It's not mine to say, but maybe it'd be wise not to be too harsh on the lad. He's young, and there's a fire in his blood that to extinguish would be a shame."

His charcoals were almost gone. Kili frowned, nose wrinkling in displeasure at this. His sketch was only half finished, and he'd have to leave his hideout to get new ones; not to mention the fact that for this, he'd have to give up the sight he had from one of the highest outlooks of his uncle's halls. Fili loved climbing, but Kili loved high places, from which you could see until every edge of the world, across the vast forests that surrounded their home, and on clear days even all the way to the Lonely Mountain (or at least that was what they liked to imagine).

The current drawing, scribbled onto a piece of parchment on the ground, showed the slopes further up the mountains, though. Covered with grass and the occasional pine tree, he knew there was a stream that led up to a small lake; geese lived there, and sometimes, Thorin would take him and Fili there to hunt. On his drawing, a small herd of mountain goats had occupied the grass, elders and babies alike, with long, fuzzy fur like he'd seen at the few goats they owned. Dwarves did not breed animals, and as such, all of them had been caught in the wilderness, and then tamed and trained to carry wares as well as their owners in battle. Dwalin and Thorin had even allowed him and Fili to ride them once or twice, for training, but for now, they still mostly stuck to ponies. There were more ponies than goats anyway – not that it would've mattered. Kili liked them all the same. Animals were cute and fuzzy (some more than others), and it was always fun to play with the few baby goats they had.

There was no help for it; he would have to go try and find some new charcoals. Kili sighed, rising to his feet and turning around, only to find himself face to face with his uncle. His heart skipped a beat, and he immediately made a step backwards again; Thorin's hand shot up to grab his forearm to keep him from stumbling too close to the edge. There was no anger in his uncle's face, though, Kili noticed with mild confusion as the elder dwarf let go of him, moving to sit on the ground, back leaned against one of the stone pillars that held the roof.

"Sit down." Thorin's voice was calm, but let no room for arguments. Head hanging with the full knowledge of his guilt, Kili gave a light sigh, but obeyed, sitting next to his uncle and making a feeble attempt to hide his sketchings. Too slow, though; Thorin had already moved to reach out for one of them, taking a closer look. There was silence between them, with no noise but the wind, and the occasional sound of a bird flying by.

"These are well done", Thorin said after a moment, breaking the muteness between them. Kili dared a brief glance back at him, fighting down the surprise.

"Y'think so?" he muttered, quickly focusing back on the ground again, knees drawn up to his chest. He did not have to look up to see the small – rare – smile on his uncle's face.

"I'm not here to punish you, _nidoyith*_. Though" and he rose a finger at that, "you will not run from your studies again."

Kili grimaced briefly. His uncle's voice once more did not allow for any objections, but _still_ … "They're boring" he muttered defiantly, careful not to look up, "It's all just family trees and dusty books and…"

"And you don't like books overmuch." Thorin's eyebrows rose only so much.

Kili's lips tightened, and he quickly turned his head away. "No." He _didn't_ like books. Fili did, he knew as much. Fili knew everything. Fili could do everything, Fili never did anything wrong. But of course, Fili was the heir, and so that was how it had to be. Thorin never did anything wrong either, after all.

Thorin watched him quietly again for another moment. "Balin told me you might prefer your left hand" he said then, his voice still calm.

Kili's head shot up. "He's lyin'! He can't know, I'm always usin' the right, like he said!" he replied hastily – maybe a little too hastily – briefly rubbing his eyes with his sleeve, stained with charcoal as it was. "I _mean_ – I mean, I – I don't. Oin said, 'twas bad luck, 'cause our maker used his righ', and so…"

" _Kili._ " Thorin's voice cut through the air, maybe a little sharper than intended; the dwarfling flinched uneasily, glancing back up.

"Yes, uncle?"

Thorin gave a light sigh, rather similar to Kili's beforehand. "It's not bad luck" he said, his voice firm and strong as he reached out for one of the small pieces of charcoal, tossing it from one hand to the other as if pondering about something, before shrugging and reaching for the drawing. "May I?"

"Uh, sure" Kili muttered, casting a suspicious glance at his uncle. Truth be told, he had never seen Thorin draw _anything_ before. It didn't look like much, either. "Is that a tree, uncle?"

Thorin narrowed his eyes at him. "Not any of us can be a master artist, rascal" he muttered under his breath, "It'd look worse if I did it with m'right, though."

Kili glanced down at Thorin's hands, understanding slowly dawning within him. " _Oh._ "

Thorin handed the parchment back to him, briefly glancing down onto the small piece of charcoal. "You'll need new ones" he decided then, rising to his feet, "Let's get you some. And then let's go find your mother, because dinner must be ready soon."

Kili nodded quietly, collecting his works before rising to his feet as well. Thorin frowned, however, when his eyes fell upon the last one. "What's that?"

Kili cleared his throat, hastily folding them up. "Uh – nothing?" he said, rather carefully, though Thorin's sceptical glance quickly swept away what little resistance he'd put up. Dutifully, he handed over the parchment. "Nothin', like I said" he muttered.

It was not the goat picture, but another one, the one that had used up most of his charcoal. It showed trees – huge trees, standing close enough to not let any light through, with black leaves and webs spun between them; webs of a size that none of the small, barely palm sized spiders of the Blue Mountains could have woven them, but instead their much larger sisters from the dark forest, visible only through dim eyes glowering out of the shadows, lurking and hiding – hiding from the others, the tall, slim people that stood between the trees, equipped with bows and knives ready to strike, hair flowing in the what little wind went through the branches. Thorin stared at the picture for a brief moment before turning back at Kili quick enough to make the boy flinch again. "Why'd you draw this?"

Kili stared up at him in utter confusion. "I – I dunno? It just – I mean – I had a – a bad dream last night – and I thought – I'm sorry…?"

Thorin's eyebrows twitched only so lightly. "A _dream_?" he said, exhaling slowly enough so that Kili could almost see the gears working behind his forehead. "You dreamed this, you mean."

Kili nodded almost shyly. "I'll try not to dream of it anymore?" he answered rather carefully, tilting his head only so much.

Thorin shot him another look, one whose meaning was hard to judge. "Dreams aren't a problem, Kili" he said then, softly, "I'll keep that, if you don't mind. Tell me if you have more of these bad dreams, yes?" Giving the boy a gentle pat on the back, he followed him back to the spiral staircase that led them down into the mountain again.

 _Bad dreams._

Kili's words still spun through Thorin's head, long after the day had turned into night.

 _Bad dreams._

It made sleeping difficult, too.

 _Bad dreams._

Kili had never seen elves before, he knew as much (and would take care to have it stay that way for as long as possible). The boy had also never heard of the spiders that roamed the depths of Mirkwood; he was careful to choose which stories they were told, to not cause them any further nightmares.

 _Bad dreams…_

"Brother?"

It was Dís' voice that snapped him out of his thoughts, staring blankly into the fireplace, turning his pipe over in his hands without lighting it in the first place. She wore her night gown already, white fabric and only the dark blue cloak over her shoulders for warmth as she came closer on bare feet. With her features lighted up by the fire, it made her skin seem made of gold and bronze, her hair, so much like his own and Kili's, black as midnight, neatly braided and clasped with silver. She sat down in the other armchair by the fire, briefly glancing over him from head to toe, blue eyes darkening a little.

"Well?"

There were no further words necessary. If anyone had ever been able to take Frerin's place – nobody had ever been able to take Frerin's place, but Dís had learned through practice what their long lost brother had been able to do through the mental connection he and Thorin had shared. (Besides, or so Thorin had to admit at least, it likely wasn't that difficult to see that something troubled him.)

"I believe our Maker has bestowed a gift upon your son" Thorin replied calmly, "On Kili, I mean. He made this."

He handed over the sketching he'd collected from the boy this afternoon; Dís' eyes wandered over it, elegant brows creasing in a small frown.

"He said, he had a dream that showed him this" Thorin went on, eyes focused on his sister's face, searching for a reaction, "Well?"

Dís glanced back at him with a small smirk. "He didn't hear anythin' from me about giant spiders and elves, brother dear, if that's what you're hinting at."

"I didn't expect him to." Thorin returned the smirk, though a little softer. "I told him to tell me if there's any more _bad dreams_ like these."

"Any more dreams of what?" Dís asked, one eyebrow raised, "Elves killing spiders? Do you count this as my baby boy having _meaningful dreams_ of a sort? You're not planning on dragging them along to this place, are you?"

Thorin narrowed his eyes at her. "I'd rather chop off my own foot than get them remotely near this forest" he replied harshly, "How'd you call it, then? The boy seeing things he can't know they _exist_?"

"I call it a child having a bad dream" Dís replied softly, handing the parchment back to Thorin, "after a stressful day, maybe. We've all had those. You should know."

Thorin's lips tightened only so much as he tucked the parchment back beneath his coat. "I don't know" he answered, shoulders sagging a bit and still hoping he did not look as tired as he suddenly felt, "I'm not sure, that's all I know. Speaking of Kili – he may be lefthanded. I told Balin and Dwalin to allow him t'use his left hand in training, and during their lessons."

Dís gave a small smile, seeming rather tired herself, though she reached out and briefly touched her brother's hand. "You're doing well with the boys" she said, her voice still soft, "They adore you, and I'm grateful for that. Now, go to sleep, will you? You look like you could use it."

 _Spoke to Balin and Dwalin about Kili._

 _Spoke to Dís about Kili's dreams._

Sleep did not come easy this night for Thorin – it never did, actually, and as such, he'd already developed the necessary rituals to help him fall asleep anyway. It had helped, or so he he'd found out, to focus his thoughts on the day past, going through it as precisely as possible, to make sure everything was in order.

 _Spoke to Kili about missing his lessons._

 _Signed trade agreements with the men of Dunland._

His eyelids slipped shut, finally.

 _Took Fili to the forge…_

Someone – _something_ – touched his shoulder.

He jerked awake, the blade from beneath his pillow sliding out with the audible noise of metal on the grindstone sewn into the scabbard. Kili made a small, squeaking noise, his face a light spot in the dark room, brown eyes wide with fear as he stared at him. "W-Why do you keep a knife under your pillow, uncle?"

Thorin stared at him for a second, and then another one. His heart was beating wildly in his chest, breath coming in short gasps; it took another moment until he slowly lowered the blade again.

"Don't do this again, boy."

His voice sounded strangely hoarse to his own ears; he cleared his throat, only then realizing he still held the blade, and Kili still stared at him in sheer terror. Slowly, he put the knife back where it belonged, sitting down on the side of the bed and taking a deep breath, calming himself with some effort. It barely worked, but it made sure his brain started to function again.

"Come here." He extended a hand to the boy, briefly holding up his palms to make sure the lad saw there was no other weapon. "C'mere, _nidoyithe**_. I'm sorry. I'm sorry, c'me here."

Slowly, Kili came closer, naked feet padding on the floor. "I…" The boy was still shaking, as Thorin noticed, with dark smudges under his eyes, nose running as he made a tiny sound like a sob, wiping his face with his sleeve. "I – I had a bad dream, uncle. Y-Y'said to tell you, s-so – so I came…"

"I know." Thorin took another deep breath, pulling the shivering boy into his arms and briefly nuzzling dark hair as he pressed a kiss to his head, gently rocking him back and forth. "It's fine. It's fine, my boy, I'm here, you are safe. Tell me what you've seen, though. Tell me, I won't be angry, I promise."

Kili nodded, a small, abrupt movement against Thorin's chest, snivelling, bony shoulders twitching beneath light sobs. He was slim, Thorin noted, too slim for his age, actually, and a bit taller. But then again, Kili had never been overly much like the average dwarf.

"I – I was outside with Fee" the boy muttered finally, his voice barely audible from where his head was pressed into Thorin's shirt, "I mean – not outside. It was all dark, an' scary. Some tunnel, I dunno."

 _Tunnel, dark and scary._ Thorin felt his brain immediately going through the many dangers the lower tunnels held, for dwarflings especially. "What else?" he asked, gently rubbing the boy's back.

Kili took another small breath, snivelling into his sleeve once more. "Dark an' scary" he repeated quietly, "But – but there was light, too. Flickerin', like torchlight, I mean. Fee was – Fee was scared, too, but – but he wouldn't say. Never says, he – he's busy bein' – princely and all that…" Breathing rather shakily, he wrapped his arms around Thorin's chest, squeezing tight. "Then he – he w-was gone, and – and I couldn't – I h-heard the – the drums and – t-the noise – I _h-h-h-_ heard him scream, uncle, and I couldn't do anythin'…"

The boy was sobbing helplessly, Thorin's hands warm on his back, while he himself felt ice cubes slide down his spine. _Drums in the tunnels? What tunnels?_ He knew, of course, what Kili did not; what Kili couldn't know. He'd never heard that before. He couldn't possibly…

"Kili" Thorin said quietly, "Kili, listen to me." The boy glanced up at him, face smeared with tears. Thorin wiped them away. "I would never let anyone hurt you" he said, his voice still soft, but firm as he held the boy's shoulders, child bones suddenly feeling overly small and fragile against his palms, " _Never._ Do you hear me? I would never allow anything to happen to you or your brother, I _promise_ you that. I would protect you with the last breath in my lungs, and the last drop of blood in my veins." Gently cupping the boy's face with his hands, he pressed a kiss to his forehead. "I promise, my brave little boy. But I want you to promise me something in return, aye?"

Kili nodded, snivelling once more. "What, uncle?" he muttered.

Thorin briefly nudged his chin up to make sure the boy looked at him. "I want you to promise me that you and your brother will stay away from the mining tunnels unless me or Dwalin are with you. No adventuring there, aye? Promise me." _The mining tunnels._ It was the only possible solution; their family knew, better than likely any of the other dwarf tribes, what things could lurk in the dark if anyone dared delve too deep. Drums and flames, indeed. The memory made his stomach churn.

Kili nodded again, rather obediently. "I promise" he whispered.

Thorin gave a small smile. "If you give a promise, you've got to keep it. Remember that, will you?"

Kili nodded a third time, cuddling close. "Can I stay with you?" he muttered.

Thorin briefly glanced down at him, suddenly feeling distinctly lighthearted at the boy's question, while at the same time seeing his chances of only a few precious hours of sleep vanish into nothing. "Of course" he said anyway.

It did not take long until footsteps of another dwarfling were to be heard across the hallway.

*man/boy that is young; little boy

**(my) little boy


End file.
